Bible journaling is a thing right now. Instagram is filled with photos of people strategically placing their margin drawings alongside their coffee cup and a vase of flowers.

We read an excerpt from A History of Western Christianity as we commemorate Constantine and his mother, Helena, today.

As we celebrate the day of Pentecost, we turn to the reading from Acts and read a devotion from The Pentecost Story: Arch Books.

One of our favorite things about where my husband, two dogs, and I live is our close proximity to the beautiful badlands of North Dakota. On the occasional free weekend, the four of us enjoy venturing out onto some public land and getting a good hike in. Since our first trip out, I have learned what to expect. However, that first trip was a learning curve for me.

I have found myself using the term fearless lately to describe the women in my life. Most days I am privileged to hear women’s stories. Men have great stories too, but today I would like to celebrate the fearlessness of women in particular. I hear wide and varied stories:

We dig into the Epistle today, specifically verses 14 and 15, which emphasize that our confidence in prayer comes from the surety of Christ’s promise for our salvation. Our devotion is from Teach Us to Pray.

Last week I had the opportunity to sit in the back during our worship services. Typically, I sit in the front row, and am mostly unaware of anything other than my own children and working to keep them engaged in the service, but this Sunday was different.

One of the blessings of being a husband and father is that I have the opportunity to watch my wife be a mother. She is a dedicated, loving, selfless mom, and I am thankful for her. Not only does she daily provide for our three sons, she has helped me to see God's love in new ways through her mothering. What's more, I have come to understand my own mother's and grandmothers' love more deeply, and I appreciate more consciously everything my mom and grandmothers have done for me. Mothers make known the very heart of God, and we take one day out of a year specifically to recognize them, (kind of like calling a newborn baby a day old—what happened to those nine months of weight gain, hair loss, fatigue, and sacrifice, if that baby is a mere one day old?), and mothers take it in stride, thankful to receive even one note of thanks along the way.

As Mother’s Day approaches, I don’t know about you, but I am bracing myself for 1. lots and lots of chatter about what a mother looks like or should be, and 2. disappointment—in myself and my mothering skills, and/or in the way the day takes shape.

For Mother's Day this year, I have one small request.

Please, fellow mamas, stop warning me that motherhood is passing me by too quickly.